text_original: Love you cannot help, and hate you cannot help; but contempt is—for you—the sovereign idiocy, the irreligious fancy!" There was a bee weighing down a blossom of thyme close by, and underneath the stalk a very ugly little centipede.
text_transcription: LOVE YOU CANNOT HELP AND HATE YOU CANNOT HELP BUT CONTEMPT IS FOR YOU THE SOVEREIGN IDIOCY THE IRRELIGIOUS FANCY THERE WAS A BEE WEIGHING DOWN A BLOSSOM OF THYME CLOSE BY AND UNDERNEATH THE STALK A VERY UGLY LITTLE CENTIPE
phonemes: lˈʌv juː kænˈɑːt hˈɛlp, ænd hˈeɪt juː kænˈɑːt hˈɛlp; bˌʌt kəntˈɛmpt ɪz—fɔːɹ juː—ðə sˈɑːvɚɹˌɪn ˈɪdɪəsi, ðɪ ɪɹᵻlˈɪdʒəs fˈænsi!" ðɛɹwˌʌz ɐ bˈiː wˈeɪɪŋ dˌaʊn ɐ blˈɔsəm ʌv tˈaɪm klˈoʊs bˈaɪ, ænd ˌʌndɚnˈiːθ ðə stˈɔːk ɐ vˈɛɹi ˈʌɡli lˈɪɾəl sˈɛntɪpˌiːd.